


Rites of Passage

by quillquiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, M/M, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an angel comes of age, wing grooming becomes of paramount importance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rites of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a wing!kink prompt for [suchfunarewe](http://suchfunarewe.tumblr.com/). It kinda got away from me :P But hopefully everyone enjoys!

Castiel had been acting off.

Not in the usual: still as a stone, intense un-blinking staring sort of way, but in the more human, fidgety, can't meet anyone eye's one. He was especially quick to anger as well, and as a result, terrible to be around. 

Dean was fed-up.

In the span of a week, the angel had smote three of his shirts, stolen all but one pair of his boxers, and was currently giving him a very bratty version of the silent treatment... And all because, during a stakeout, Dean had asked what was up his ass and then proceeded to sing a song about it.

Hey, it wasn't  _his_  fault 'Cas' and 'ass' rhymed so spectacularly.

The pissy nerd didn’t stay away, either, which was even worse. Castiel hung around  _all the time_. Which would have been awesome, if not for the sour look that seemed permanently glued to his face.

Dean missed  _his_  Cas. 

Which was, honestly, probably one of the major drivers that factored into confronting the guy. Well, that and Castiel smote his toothbrush. "What the hell, Cas?!?"

"You were brushing too loud," he growled sourly. "I couldn't think." 

"Think about what?!" the hunter cried, frustrated. "The fact that you're slowly burning through all my worldly possessions?! Because that's what you're doing, asshat!" 

Castiel paced the room, rolling his shoulders, fists clenched tightly. "In case it slipped your simple little mind, Dean Winchester, we are in the middle of a  _war_. I am an  _angel_. You owe me  _respect_. And I will smite whatever and whoever I wish, including but not limited to that ugly heap of scrap metal you call a motor vehicle, if you do not  _shut your cakehole_." 

It was one thing to smite a toothbrush. It was another to threaten his Baby.

"Listen to me, you dickhead," Dean growled. "I may not be an angel, but- Cas?"

The angel had shut his eyes tightly and was wriggling his shoulders like he was trying to dislodge something from his back, grunting and whining and fisting his coat. Dean frowned. "Cas?" he asked again, concern creeping into his tone.

"What?!" Castiel snarled, body stilling eerily but for the slight tremor in his hand. 

Dean's frowned deepened; his angel was acting very... unangelic. More wounded animal than celestial intent.  "Woah," the hunter said gently, hands up as he approached Cas with caution. "You okay?"

He clasped the angel's shoulder.

Castiel hissed, stumbling back as he rolled his shoulders again, shaking his head. Dean called his name again and again, beyond worried. Finally, the angel slumped, worn out and chest heaving. "Just... don't touch me," he gasped, voice suddenly kind. "Please."

"You're hurt," Dean breathed in realization. He narrowed his eyes. "Is this why you've been so goddamn moody the past week!? Because you're injured?!? Of all the stupid-"

"I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not... injured. Not in so many words."

Dean scoffed. "Well, that just makes it  _awesome_. All good. Nothing to worry about. Cas, you looked like you were having a  _seizure_." 

"I'm wasn't," the angel mumbled in reply, rolling his shoulders again.

"And what's with the shoulders?" Dean demanded. "You keep fidgeting." 

"I wasn't aware that was a crime," Cas replied, enough sass in his tone to give even Sam a run for his money. 

It took everything for Dean to keep from demonstrating a real crime for the angel’s practical knowledge.  _Cool it, Winchester._  "Look, just- just what the hell, man? What's wrong? Because I'm getting fed up of having my shit destroyed and being yelled at."

Castiel refused to make eye contact.

Sighing, the hunter bit his lip, wringing his hands before ploughing through. "Whatever you’re going through… Cas, you gotta know that you’ll come out the other side. And I might not be an angel or anything, but if I can help you out, you can be damn sure I will. I-I just want the old Cas back," he confessed softly. "My Cas."

For the first time in his life, the angel felt truly powerless. He forced himself to sit, clasping his hands in his lap as he gave Dean a look of complete and utter defeat. "When an angel comes of age..." he began, pausing to sigh heavily. "Is this really necessary?"

"I just poured my freaking heart out," Dean said impatiently. "What do you think?"

"It’s not something that is usually talked about in public.”

“I’m sorry, do you see a public forum here? Because I’m only getting you and me.” He paused then, something clicking as the hunter tilted his head in a movement that was scarily reminiscent of his angelic friend. “Is it a sex thing?”

Castiel was silent.

Dean’s face split into a wide grin, moving to sit next to Cas but not close enough to touch him. “Well, now you’re just holding out on me,” the hunter smirked. “Angel sex? This I gotta hear.”

“It’s not-” Castiel cut himself off, huffing as he fidgeted again, knuckles turning white as he tightened his clasped fingers. “Wings need to be groomed when an angel comes of age," he explained, uncomfortably. "After their first grooming, they need to be taken care of on a regular basis. Usually by a mate; it’s a delicate and intimate process.”

“Okay…” Dean trailed off. “I’m not seeing the problem.”

“ _The problem_ ,” Cas groused, shifting in his seat again. “Is that you clearly do not pay attention to a word that comes out of my mouth.”

Dean raised an unimpressed brow. Not pay attention? He desperately hung onto every word that fell from those lips, carefully examining each sound and syllable. This probably more had to do with the shape of the mouth than the words themselves, but the fact remained: Dean always paid rapt attention to Castiel. Always. “You done?” the hunter asked, infuriatingly calm. “Because I’m trying to help you here.”

“I know,” Cas muttered.

“So..?”

A sigh. “Dean, have you ever known me to have had a mate?”

Oh.

“So, that’s it? You’ve never-” There was a beat of silence during which the eldest Winchester suddenly panicked. Was that bad? Was Cas in pain? “Isn’t that like a rite of passage or something?” Dean said conversationally, trying not to seem worried.

“Yes...”

“It doesn’t hurt, right? I mean, you’re good?”

“I’m not writhing on the floor, am I?”

“Right. No. Yeah, you’re- Good. Good.”

“Are  _you_  all right?”

“What? Yeah, no, I’m… Shit, Cas, like not ever? You just- you missed it? No sex, no.. grooming- nothing?”

Castiel looked at him like he was insane. “Of course I groomed. Do you know the pain that would have befallen me if I hadn’t?”

“But you just said-”

“I did it myself.” This was said more softly, as if Castiel was ashamed. He fidgeted again. “My brother Gabriel took pity on me when it became clear I could not complete the task alone.”

“Gabriel,” Dean repeated. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You were,” the angel said simply. “I was his favourite, I think. Gabriel. I had been ashamed and had hidden myself away. It itched and hurt and bled… He stumbled onto my hiding place and helped me in secret.”

“No kidding,” the hunter breathed in awe.

Castiel frowned. “Do I appear to be joking?"

“It’s an expression.”

Cas considered this and nodded. He took a deep breath, forcing his shoulders up and down in what Dean assumed was meant to be a shrug. “After Gabriel abandoned us, I had no one to help me. I am…  _well_  overdue to be groomed again. It doesn’t hurt now, but it will if I don’t take care of it.”

“So, that’s why you’ve been hanging around here?” Dean asked not unkindly. “You need help.”

“No,” Cas replied. “I’ve been here because I crave- Affection; physical displays and warmth, these are all things that a-an angel needs during this time and-”

Without thinking, Dean wrapped his arm around his friend, shocked when the angel moaned loudly, the thing dancing dangerously on the fine line between pleasure and pain. Cas pushed himself off of the shocked hunter, shaking his head wildly. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, eyes wide and body tensed. “I-I’m very… I’ve never, so-”

“You’re sensitive,” Dean breathed, sad understanding all over his face. “You’ve never been touched.”

“Don’t you dare pity me, Dean Winchester,” Castiel growled. “I will be fine. I am here because I could not stay away and had nowhere else to go, not because I particularly wanted to share this with you. It will go away. The grooming period only lasts for about two Earth weeks, so after that-”

“You said it’ll hurt.”

“It will get worse before it gets better,” the angel replied, words suddenly weighed and careful. He had pulled the Righteous Man from Hell; Castiel could venture to guess the direction of his current thoughts. “Perhaps my earlier word choice was too harsh.”

“No, I think you’re trying to be a hero again.”

“I am  _trying_  to do what’s best for you.”

“And what about what’s best for you?” Dean demanded. “Huh? What’s best for  _you_?”

Castiel clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes away from the hunter as he forced himself up and towards the door. “You don’t understand what you’re offering. What you’re  _asking._ ”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot. I understand just fine.”

Cas rounded on him, invading his personal space to the point that Dean stepped back. Castiel twitched uncomfortably. “Really?” he challenged. “You understand that I will make you uncomfortable; that I will be unable to control my physical urges? You understand that this is equivalent to angelic foreplay? And barring all this, you understand that no angel has  _ever_  attempted a corporeal manifestation of this nature?”

Dean smiled nervously, acutely aware that, no, he’d had no fucking idea. But if Cas was this twitchy and bitchy now, the hunter didn’t want to see what the guy would be like in another week.

Castiel, taking the moment of silence for exactly what it was, nodded in a satisfied manner before walking back to the door. Dean grit his teeth. He forced the slab of wood closed just as Cas was opening it, looking at the angel angrily. “That’s not even gonna work, is it? You’ll just come back worse than before.”

“Let me pass.”

“I swear to God, Cas, I will not take your crap for another week. Hell, I won’t take it for another  _day._ Do you know how many shirts I have? Seven. I have seven fucking shirts. You destroyed  _three of them_. You smote my toothbrush. The deposits on the last three rooms? Gone. No goddamn way am I gonna sit here lookin’ pretty, waiting for you to get pissed at the Impala! So, no, you’re not leaving. I’ve had it with your moody angelic bullshit, and I refuse watch you hurt for something so stupid.” He took a deep breath. “Now get on the goddamn bed and mojo your fluffy parts.”

Shocked, Castiel’s hand dropped from the door, following Dean blindly as the hunter pulled him to the bed by his sleeve. Cas was looking at the other man like he couldn’t understand how he existed. Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas!” he barked. “We doing this or what?”

Frowning, the angel nodded, still disbelieving of the entire affair as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah!” the hunter cried, covering his eyes. “The hell do you think you’re doing!?”

This very Dean-like reaction snapped Castiel back to the present. He gave the sandy-haired man a look that clearly said ‘make up your fucking mind’. “I  _thought_  I was manifesting my wings,” he replied testily.

“Then why are you taking your clothes off?!”

“ _Because I’m manifesting my wings_.”

Dean paused a moment, smiling nervously as it clicked. “Right. No, I knew that. I just meant, like- Isn’t there a way to keep your clothes  _on_?”

Cas looked at him exasperatedly.

“You know what? Forget I said anything,” the hunter said amiably, hand waving in a large sweeping motion. “Proceed.”

Castiel shrugged off his shirt, jacket and overcoat at the same time, pulling at his tie until it loosened enough for him to slip over his head. Dean made a mental note to teach the angel how to properly disrobe in the future.

Bare-chested in the middle of the room, Cas looked awkwardly to Dean, rolling his shoulders and curling into himself. He looked pretty much as Dean had expected him to: lean and lithe and inviting, with strong shoulders and dark, round nipples. Dean briefly let himself imagine how those narrow hips would feel under his hands, all pale skin and hard angles. His fingers would trace the graceful curve of the other man's neck, face nuzzled into its crook as he'd nibble on Castiel's collarbone. A flush broke out over the angel’s chest, colouring his flesh a light pink as he eyed the bed nervously, stepping towards the door. "Not here."

Shaken, Dean’s own cheeks flooded red as he cleared his throat, frowning appropriately. “What? Why?”

"Dean, I have no idea if this will even work,” Cas said uncomfortably, shifting again. “I don’t want to blow up the building.”

Dean’s brows shot to his hairline. “How much juice is this gonna take?”

A sigh. “A lot.”

“Will it hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, are you gonna have enough?”

“Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Cas.”

Castiel rolled his eyes in the single most human act Dean had seen from him insofar. “I should. The grooming period is coupled with an increase in stamina for… copulation purposes.”

Well, who knew angels went at it like rabbits in heat.

They drove for half an hour, eventually agreeing that in Castiel’s debilitated state, he was in no shape to be flying anywhere. Stopping in a field, Castiel stumbled out of the car, grunting and groaning as his hands moved back to claw at the air near his back. “Stay here.”

“Cas-”

“Dean,” the angel pleaded. “I can’t risk hurting you.”

When Castiel was halfway across the field, he stopped, tilting his head in confusion as he saw Dean give him a thumbs up. Mimicking the action, Cas took a deep breath before closing his eyes and concentrating. Around him, air began to swirl like a tornado, kicking up leaves and dust and dirt as his body began to glow white, vision swimming. It  _hurt_. It felt like a hot poker was searing the flesh of his back, digging into his skin and the muscle below unapologetically as it went deeper and deeper and deeper. The angel could only just make out Dean running in his direction before he fell to his knees, growling with effort as he forced matter to shift around in a display that was nothing short of a miracle.

“Cas?!” Dean tripped in his haste to reach Castiel, falling to the ground just as a burst of blinding white light exploded from where the angel was standing. Covering his head, the hunter was showered in a thin spray of dust before being hit with what felt like a wall of wind. And then all was quiet.

Scrambling to his feet, Dean could clearly made out the slumped over figure about ten yards away, big, black things protruding from its back. “Cas?!”

He didn’t move.

“CAS?!”

Dean ran as fast as his legs would carry him, throwing himself down beside his friend as he grabbed Castiel’s face, forcing him to look up. “Cas? C’mon, Cas. Open those baby blues for me. Cas,  _wake up_.”

Grabbing the water bottle he’d brought along in his jacket pocket, Dean sprayed the angel’s face, sighing in relief as Castiel’s eyes cracked open, a sliver of blue visible from underneath his dark lashes. “Dean?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m here.”

Cas smiled tiredly, nodding as Dean grinned, positively giddy. “You did it, Cas. You fucking  _did it_.”

“Good,” the angel breathed. “’M tired now.”

Castiel did not twitch or fidget as Dean helped him to the car, though the hunter was privy to the small groans and moans mouthed against the skin of his neck. Cas was fine as Dean helped him into the backseat as well. In fact, it was only ten minutes into the drive that the angel began to shift again, large wings bumping and sliding into everything.

When Cas had said increased stamina, he  _meant it_. In another three minutes the guy was back in full fidgeting mode, rubbing himself up against the seats and crying out loudly, the sounds more pleasure-filled with each brush of his feathers against the upholstery.

“Cas! Stop rubbing one out on my seats!”

It wasn’t said with half as much conviction as Dean had wanted.

The hunter’s voice made the angel pause before he shifted again, this time the tip of his left wing moving to brush the hunter’s ear and neck, tingles shooting up Dean’s spine as he tried to focus on the road. Castiel groaned, the sound primal as he swung forward, panting against the shell of Dean’s ear. “Faster,” he whined. “Please go  _faster_.”

The hunter had only just opened his mouth to give Cas an earful when he received a mouthful of feathers, instead. While Dean was busy choking up an angelic feather-ball, his horny little angel was frozen to the spot, whimpering through a bitten lip as his eyes closed and brow furrowed.

“Backseat. Now.” The hunter’s tone was gruff and authoritative, but Castiel paid Dean no mind, a hand now moving down his arm.

“Cas-  _Shit_.”

The angel was nibbling the sweet spot on his neck.

“Dean,  _please_.” Cas’ wing rubbed up against the door handle. “Aaaah-  _Dean_.”

“Fuck this.” Turning sharply into the parking lot of a Motel 8, Dean threw it into park, running inside and getting a room. He called Sam at the same time, assuring his little brother that everything was fine, but he and Cas were working a last minute case. Key in hand, the hunter managed to hastily pull his half-clothed angel from the car, ignoring the groans and pleas and moans as he led Castiel inside as quickly as possible.

The motel room could have been worse.

Dean barely had time to shut the door before the blissed out angel was on him, hands sliding under his shirt. “Holy oil,” Cas murmured wetly, licking a stripe up Dean’s neck. “Get the holy oil.”

It took Dean five minutes to disentangle himself from Castiel, and another two to convince the angel he had to go to the car alone. The hunter had barely put his hand on the doorknob before Cas swung the thing open, pulling Dean inside and slamming the door shut, pushing the sandy-haired man against the hard surface while snatching the jug and putting it on a table. “Please,” he whimpered, pressing their bodies flush as he gripped the hem of Dean’s shirt, face burying into his neck. “Please, touch me.”

Dean complied.

Carefully, the hunter ran a hand through Cas’ dark hair, heart pounding and breath shallow as Cas whimpered into his skin. Dean’s other hand pressed flat against Castiel’s back, sliding up the soft, smooth surface slowly. The angel whimpered, arching against the other man before Dean’s fingers met their final mark; the valley between Cas’ wings. Crying out, Castiel opened his wings as much as he could within the small room, presenting them to Dean and Dean only.

Later, the hunter would marvel that he had been privy to such majesty; that he was the only one in the history of the world to have ever witnessed the wings of an angel… but in that moment, all thoughts escaped him.

They were beautiful.

Easily time and a half of the room’s length, Castiel’s wings were black and burned and riddled with scar tissue. Dean knew that the feathers themselves felt soft, but to look at them all brought images of jagged rock to mind, so black they shimmered dark blue in the light. If Dean looked hard enough, he could see small down feathers attempting to peak out from under the dark plumage.

“Dean, please.”

Carefully, the hunter reached behind Cas’ back, gently massaging two handfuls of scapular feathers.

Dean could feel the angel’s heart pounding fast and hard against his own chest, Cas' breathing erratic as his knees buckled, the hunter only barely catching him. One arm moved to wrap around Castiel’s waist while the other cupped his face, concerned. The angel whined, begging to be touched in the place he needed it most.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.”

Cas obliged, eyes flicking open to stare at Dean through their darkened depths. “Dean-”

“I will, I promise. You okay?”

Castiel wrapped himself around Dean in a hug. “Just touch me,” he breathed. “Just touch me everywhere.”

The hunter swallowed thickly.

Careful, Dean grabbed the jug and half-dragged Cas to the bed, lowering them both onto the surprisingly soft and clean surface as he sighed, fingers brushing against the stubble of the other man’s cheek. “What do I have to do?”

“The oil. Use it to lubricate your hands and-”

“Touch you, I got it.”

Castiel nodded, the knowledge that this was about to happen making him twitch and shake terribly in his hunter’s arms. “Yes. Dean, _yes_.”

“Lie down.”

Climbing to sit on Cas’ posterior, Dean tried to focus on the task at hand and not on how much his groin was aching. Pouring some holy oil onto his left palm, the hunter lathered his hands, figuring he’d start in the middle and work his way out. Carefully, Dean ran his fingers through the feathers, making sure each was in the right place and removing those that were loose and no longer useful. All the while his hands were slicked in holy oil, the stuff coating the Cas’ impressive plumage and making it shine brilliantly as Castiel trembled beneath his fingers, whimpering and moaning.

“You’re so beautiful.” Dean felt the words slip from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Y-You’re so.. so..  _Fuck_.”

The hunter’s brows shot up at the use of profanity, grinning when Castiel repeated the word once, twice, three times. When Dean’s finger ran across a particularly sensitive feather, Cas’ ‘ _fuck me_ ’ whine was so desperate and hot that Dean felt himself grind his hips into the softness of the angel’s ass.

Instead of freezing up or trying to fuck him into the mattress as per Dean’s mental predictions, Cas merely groaned, nodding as if asking the hunter to continue.

So he did.

Every time Dean reach forward to do another batch of feathers, he would press his hips down into Castiel’s backside. At some point, the hunter undid the fly of his jeans to try and gain some relief; bulging, brief-covered package almost bursting from the open garment. “C-Cas? How you doing, buddy?”

Cas groaned his approval, left fingers moving back to wriggle into the kneehole of Dean’s jeans. “You good?” he slurred in reply.

Dean jerked his hips downward in response.

But the time the hunter was finishing up the last of Castiel’s primary feathers, he was about ready to pass out from slow torture. Despite this fact, Dean drew out his movements, enjoying having free reign to touch his angel wherever he wished. “Done.” But instead of moving away, instead of distancing himself, Dean Winchester moved closer, jerking his hips harshly as Cas mewled. He pressed his face to Castiel’s back, placed hot, open-mouthed kisses over the skin as he rolled his hips more gently and consistently this time, the angel’s free hand moving to grip the blankets, knuckles turning white. “You feel that, Angel?” Dean breathed. “That’s for you if you want it. All of it. I’m yours.”

“Y-Yes. I want- Dean, I want-”

Dean had worked his way up and was carefully tonguing the base of Castiel’s right wing, causing the angel’s sentence to dissolve into a mass of incoherent noises. His fingers traced Cas’ ribs and then the small of his back before slipping under the waistband of his pants. “Lift your hips for me, babe.”

Castiel did so immediately, groaning loudly when Dean’s hand slid down his stomach to cup the bulge between his legs. The hunter undid Cas’ belt with his left hand while his right fingers traced patterns against the angel’s covered skin, biting his lip as Castiel ground into his palm.

And then the pants were off, and Dean’s fingers were gripping warm, hard flesh.

Staying like that for a moment, the hunter pressed his mouth to the base of Cas’ spine, nuzzling his face into the skin there as he closed his eyes. Breathing heavily, Dean let himself explore, thumb pressing into the angel’s wet slit before he moved downward to play with his sac. Castiel trembled, wings fluttering and brushing the back of Dean’s head, demanding to be touched.

 _Touch me everywhere_.

Dean planned to.

“Okay?” the hunter asked softly, stopping in his movements. Cas nodded almost spastically, thrusting into Dean’s hand with a whimper.

“More.”

It took all of Dean’s self-control not to simply fuck him into the mattress.

“Not like this.”

“Like how?”

Fingers sifting through his angel’s oiled, gloriously feathered wings, the hunter bit his lip, cheeks flushing wildly as he leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of Cas’ ear. “I need to see you,” he breathed.

Castiel almost killed them both in his haste to flip over. He sent one of the bedside lamps crashing to the floor and flipped over a table, almost throwing Dean off the bed.

"Easy there, Tiger.”

“I’m an Angel of the Lord,” Cas said seriously, eyes dark as he looked at the other man like he was something to be coveted. It was, without a doubt, the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.

“You are,” the hunter agreed, slipping the remainder of Castiel’s clothing off of him completely. He gently nudged the angel’s legs open, sitting in between them still fully clothed as he massaged Cas’ calves, and then his thighs, moving back to press a soft kiss to the arch of his foot. “And you’re mine.”

Castiel groaned, head lolling forward as he looked up at Dean through his lashes, nodding his agreement. “Always.”

Pitching himself forward, Cas caught Dean’s lips in a kiss, arms draping over his clothed shoulders while his wings encircled the hunter, brushing against him in a way that sent shivers up his spine. Castiel settled himself over Dean’s thighs, started a rolling motion with his hips as their kisses turned hot and open-mouthed, Cas’ fingers tugging at the hem of the other man’s shirt. “I was and will always be yours,” the angel gasped as Dean moved to his neck, nipping at his collarbone with a groan. “You are my first and my last, and never will anything take you from me.”

The hunter hummed in agreement, shedding his shirt only to crush his mouth to Cas’ again. “B-Because, just as I am yours,” Castiel said breathlessly, pulling away and resting his forehead on his partner’s, their eyes locked. “You are mine.”

Cas pressed his hand to the print on Dean’s left deltoid, wings extending in a show of dominance and possession.

Insides on fire and twisting gorgeously, the hunter pressed Castiel back into the mattress, both pairs of hands scrambling to remove his pants before Dean slotted himself against his angel, wings soft and ticklish against the bare skin of his back. Playfully, the hunter nipped at Cas’s dark nipples, smiling when the angel moved to tangle his fingers in sandy-blond hair. "D-Dean?”

“Mmm?”

The angel tilted Dean’s head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “ _Touch me everywhere_.”

Dean almost choked on his saliva. He couldn’t mean- He didn’t actually- But the needy, honest look on Castiel’s face told him otherwise.

It damn near killed the hunter to say no, but Dean smiled softly and shook his head anyway, peppering kisses to the angel’s face in a sappy, loving gesture that made Cas smile widely. “We can’t,” Dean breathed. “We don’t have anything, and I ain't usin' holy oil.”

“What else could we possibly need?” the angel groaned, horny and disappointed.

“Lube, for one. I think we’re good on protection though.”

“Lube.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “I have a bottle in my duffle, but that’s back at the other motel.”

“I see… And this ‘lube’, it’s important?”

Dean nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth. “Pretty darned.” The hunter was so hot he didn’t care  _what_  they did anymore… as long as they did  _something_. He paused when he saw Castiel frowning, the angel seeming to consider all this information before he disappeared in a flutter of blue and black.

Dean’s head dropped to the mattress with a groan.

He was honestly about ready to spit in his hand and take care of himself when Cas popped back in minutes later, tossing his partner the good-sized bottle before hopping onto the bed and pinning his hunter down with a grin. “Now,” the angel breathed, lips hovering dangerously close to Dean’s as his wings fanned out around them, an inky black cloak in the dim room. “I believe I was asking you to touch me.”


End file.
